


River's Course

by volta_said_revolt



Category: Arc of a Scythe Series - Neal Shusterman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volta_said_revolt/pseuds/volta_said_revolt
Summary: AU - Volta is assigned as Rowan's teacher instead of Goddard. They get a bit more than they bargained for."Did you ever think you'd end up here?""Here as in 'the scythedom', or as in 'the worst group of people you've ever met'?"
Relationships: Rowan Damisch/Scythe Volta
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My fist multichapter fic! The first few chapters will be kinda similar to the book so sorry about that.

Choosing a suitable apprentice is an incredibly hard job, at least that's what I believe it should be. To drag another person, a child, into this job is seen by many as a heartless action. They do not want to be chosen, why would they? Any who wish to be a scythe can and should never be one. I've never heard a new apprentice say they wanted to be one. That is good, it means they have compassion for their fellow man, it means their consciousness won't let them take their position lightly. This is the only standard we must demand from those whom we engage in the job.

_-From the gleaning journal of H.S, Faraday_

* * *

Rowan knew something was wrong the moment he heard banging on the door. He joked that Faraday could have forgotten his keys but he knew he was wrong. The scythe would never. And then in such rapid succession came the BladeGuard and the High Blade and the horrifying news. He'd realized why Faraday had self-gleaned before Xenocrates had said it. And now here they were, having stood so close to freedom, only to have it ripped away.

  
"You should be flattered, however," The High Blade was saying. "Not just one, but two scythes have come forward - one for each of you.”

  
Citra tried to protest, but it was futile. The matter had already been settled before they'd even known Faraday was dead. Citra would be taken by Scythe Curie. Rowan closed his eyes. He knew what was coming next, even before Xenocrates said the words.

  
"You, Rowan, will complete your training in the capable hands of Scythe Volta." Rowan opened his eyes in confusion. He had been sure it'd be Goddard, could it be he was just paranoid? However, the High Blade continued. "Now, he was only ordained a few years ago, but given that he's a part of Scythe Goddard's inner circle, I'm sure your training will not suffer."

  
Rowan should've known not to get his hopes up so easily. Of course, Goddard wouldn't officially be his teacher - if he failed it would look bad on the scythe’s reputation. Unknowingly to him, that had been the right decision – Rowan had already decided he would let Citra win. He had no intention of pursuing the scythe title when he knew she would be a better fit.

  
The girl didn’t say much to Rowan when Scythe Curie came to pick her up. What was there to say after all? They hugged quickly and Citra left with her new mentor. He had buried himself in his thoughts when he noticed a new presence next to him. He looked up to see a scythe in a bright yellow robe, which stood out in the dimly lit room. Rowan recalled seeing him at the Vernal Conclave.

  
“Nice to meet you Rowan, I’m Scythe Volta. I am terribly sorry for your loss. Scythe Faraday was a good man.”

“Yeah,” Rowan muttered and got up to leave. “He was.”

  
If Volta had detected Rowan’s bitter attitude, he didn’t say anything, and led the boy to a car that was waiting outside.

  
“Scythe Goddard’s estate is about an hour away,” He said as they got in. “So you can rest up if you’d like. In fact, I’d recommend it.”

  
Rowan was sure he would not be able to catch a second of sleep tonight, but he nodded anyway. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes as the chauffeur started up the car and set off on the road to Rowan’s new life.

  
Volta couldn’t help but stare at the boy. He recalled his own apprenticeship, not too long ago, which had not been nearly as eventful. He knew, of course, that Rowan hated him and everything he stood for. But that was inevitable in the beginning. He could only hope they’d eventually get along better. Volta shook his head lightly and reminded himself not to get too ahead of the situation. He then pulled out a book and settled down for the rest of the ride.

  
Meanwhile, Rowan was sure he was about to cry. He had made up his mind to let Citra kill him with little hesitation. What he was not looking forward to, however, were the months he would have to endure before then. Scythe Volta didn’t seem too bad for now, but Rowan knew what he had suspected from the moment Xenocrates first spoke – most of his training would be under Scythe Goddard. He was glad Scythe Curie had stepped in to save Citra from this nightmare. He remembered that Faraday admired the woman, so he was sure Citra was in good hands. He wished he could say the same about his own situation. Rowan decided to compose himself and find out as much as he could from Volta before they got to the estate.

  
“So why did Scythe Goddard decide I’m too unimportant to train me himself?” He asked suddenly. Volta didn’t seem startled and calmly closed his book.

  
“You’re going right into it then, huh? Well, to answer your question, he’s a busy man.”

  
“Okay, so why take me in the first place?”

  
“Come on, you and the girl are the most interesting topic the Scythedom has had in years. He wouldn’t miss a chance to train the star of the show.”

  
“So, what? You’re just the scapegoat if anything goes wrong?”

  
“You are assuming that you’ll lose, but from what I’ve heard you’re a very promising apprentice.” Rowan noticed Volta avoid the question but decided not to comment on that. He stayed silent for a little bit, then asked:

  
“Why do you follow him?”

  
The question did manage to evoke a small reaction from the scythe. Rowan notice him become ever so slightly defensive.

  
“Scythe Goddard is a visionary,” Volta replied. “He sees our future. I’m much more interested in being a part of the Scythedom’s future than its past.”

  
“That sounds like you’ve been rehearsing it.” Rowan said. The scythe’s mood noticeably went down, but he laughed off the comment.

  
“I think you’ll fit in just fine. Scythe Goddard likes a sharp wit.”

  
Rowan wished he could learn more, but they had reached the large iron gates of the mansion. He supposed he would have the chance to do that later on. However, when they entered the actual building, his every sense was assaulted by the party that was going on. He let go of hoping he would learn anything of use anytime soon.

  
“Welcome to the funhouse!” Volta leaned in to tell him when they went inside. Rowan got the feeling he didn’t approve of the glamorous event but didn’t have time to reflect on that. He was being dragged right to Goddard to introduce himself. What a ride he was in for.

* * *

Apprentices shape the Scythedom. That is an undeniable fact about the world we live in. We should give them all we can, in order to ensure our own survival. I do, however, fear that some inappropriate selections were made in the past. They have turned the inner politics of the Scythedom into an unpredictable mess. This is why it is more important than ever to choose our future carefully in the faces of our apprentices.

_-From the gleaning journal of H.S. Faraday_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys are back babey

In this new era, the ones we glean cannot feel the pain they would have felt when death claimed them in the old ages. This is why it’s us who should take it, embrace it, let it clear our minds. I would much rather have my mind be unclouded, than have it be called ‘right’ by others. We all choose our own way, and I, along with those who follow my example, have chosen this - the way of the past, the present and the future.

_-From the gleaning journal of H.S. Goddard_

* * *

Some time among the chaos of the party Volta had shown Rowan his room. The boy, quite honestly, had never felt that thankful to see a bed.

“You'll get used to the attention. I’ll hold them off for a bit, get some rest.” The scythe had told him before disappearing. Rowan knew he’d have to go back to the party sooner rather than later, but he still appreciated the little solace he was granted. Goddard had told him he was the main celebrity of the event, yet all he could think about was the fact that he was going to die soon.

The party went on for another full day before, finally, all the guests left one by one - undoubtedly ordered to do so by Goddard. Rowan was both happy to see them go, and a bit disappointed. He would never admit it, but he had enjoyed the attention. That was the lettuce kid’s fault, he supposed. That craving for validation never really went away, even if it was the most unwanted kind of praise he could possibly be receiving. They were congratulating him on skills he didn't have the slightest desire to acquire. In the end, he chose not to dwell on it - the party had exhausted him enough, he didn't have to torment himself any more. He had barely recovered from the loud music a couple of hours later when Volta showed up.

“Rise and shine,” He said, smirking at his exhausted apprentice. “Victory waits for no one.”

Rowan groaned but got up to follow him to what turned out to be a cellar. He assumed he was going to do some Bokator training, but what he got was far from that. The moment Scythe Rand took out the tweaker, he got a very bad feeling. What followed was the worst thing Rowan had ever experienced.

A while ago, he had joined Tyger for a splat, to support his friend and to see what it was like. The pain he had felt then was momentous and when he had woken up in the revival centre, it had completely disappeared. That was fully expected, and Rowan could not understand the point of the splatting. It wasn't a test of the nanites, as they always worked flawlessly - the Thunderhead never failed. Tyger had said it was for the thrill but still hadn't managed to convince his friend it was any fun. Here, now, without his nanites, Rowan was sure he was living through hell. He felt every blow that landed on his body, every contact feeling like a step closer to death. Goddard had, in what Rowan could tell was an egotistical habit of his, been speaking during the entire beating. He was for sure giving him some explanation of his reasoning, but the maddening pain had prevented the boy from comprehending a word of it.

Now, days later, Rowan had finally regained full consciousness and felt that he was slowly getting better. He had never truly appreciated living in the post-mortal age until that moment. He could not imagine having to bear this pain every time something happened to him. All the instantly cured little cuts and bruises in his childhood stood in a different light now. Volta visited him several times a day to check how he was doing. Rowan appreciated it, but doubted it had to do with much more than duty. About four days into his recovery, Scythe Goddard had entered his room for the first time.

“Good job, Rowan!” He’d sounded excited. “You’re doing great!”

“Thanks.” Rowan had said weakly from his bed, unsure of what it was that he was supposedly doing.

“Now, now, cheer up. You’ll get better at tolerating it. This is why you’re here after all - to learn. Your victory will be so much sweeter after you’ve been through the pain.”

With those words, the scythe had left the room and missed the glare Rowan was shooting at him.

“This is bullshit.” He said when Scythe Volta entered again later.

“It’s okay, you almost look like a human again.”

Despite his teasing, Volta carefully looked after Rowan’s recovering body, which he appreciated. He could barely move, so the scythe’s help was priceless.

“It hurts.” Rowan said, feeling like a little kid. The words were becoming sort of a routine line for him.

“You’ll grow from it, you’ll see.”

“How could this possibly make me better?” The boy asked, his voice growing hoarse. He hadn't been talking much in the past few days - being unconscious will do that to you - and was getting used to it again.

“Six months from now, you’ll tell me I was right. Don't worry, I’ll make sure everyone else hears it as well.”

“Are you planning to record it too?”

“I might decide to spare you the shame.” Volta teased him again and headed towards the door.

“Thank you, Volta,” Rowan whispered before he had opened it. “For taking the time to visit me.”

The scythe turned around and smiled softly at him. “Call me Alessandro.”

“Is that your real name?”

“No, you idiot, that’s Volta’s first name.” He laughed quietly.

“Oh.” Rowan guessed that’s the closest you got to having friends in the Scythedom. “Thank you, Alessandro.”

The following morning Scythe Goddard came back again, this time to reset Rowan’s healing nanites. By the evening he was in near perfect condition. This meant, of course, that his real training was about to begin. The program the scythes had laid out for him was very physically taxing, though he hadn’t expected anything less. Goddard was very dismissive of the theoretical part of being a scythe, so he dedicated Rowan’s late afternoons to it and left it at that.

“You’re still gonna have to impress the academics.” He had said. Rowan couldn't help but remember Scythe Faraday, who'd insisted on a well-rounded curriculum for him and Citra. He shut down that train of thought immediately, the pain still fresh in his heart.

And so, Rowan did as he was told, trying to forget that all his efforts would be for nothing in the end.

* * *

I always try to glean the ones who’ve given up on life. The ones that live for the sake of living, that live day by day because they can’t stop. Their eyes are always the same. And yet, in some of them, you can see a spark of the desire for change. Sometimes they’re too scared to do something they know is fully in their reach. I ask them a question when I pass them by, that usually does the trick.

_-From the gleaning journal of H.S. Curie_


	3. Chapter 3

It should be clear to anyone that Scythe Godard's teachings are the way of the future. He is a visionary. After all, why must we restrain ourselves with quotas, or by gleaning one or two people at a time? In the past, death would claim hundreds every day, and isn't it our purpose to embody the death we have defeated?

- _From the gleaning journal of H.S. Volta_

* * *

After a few months of intense training, Rowan showed undeniable improvement. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to hate it less and less. In turn, he hated himself for letting Goddard's teachings get to him. He still had a clear view of his future, no matter how little of it he had left, but he found himself wanting to compete for the scythe position. Rowan was, despite all his efforts, starting to become unwilling to go down without a fight. If anything, he'd become quite good at fighting.

It appeared that Goddard thought so too. One evening, during one of the regular slightly awkward meals at the estate, he'd expressed his pride.

"I think our Rowan is ready to come with us on a gleaning!" Goddard had said.

Rowan froze up at the words. He hadn't actually accompanied the four scythes on one of their trips yet. They had left to glean twice while Rowan had been staying with them. He knew that Volta was the one preventing the others from taking him along, and he was infinitely thankful. However, it appeared that the fight had finally been lost. Rowan looked around the dinner table to assess the reactions. Goddard was clearly delighted by his idea. He often seemed to forget he wasn't technically Rowan's teacher, but in his mind he definitely was. Scythe Rand and Scythe Chomsky also seemed to like the suggestion, which came as no surprise to Rowan. They were as bloodthirsty as Goddard was (Rowan would even go as far as to say they beat him in that category). Meanwhile, Volta seemed less than happy with Goddard. 

"Perhaps, it's best if we-" Volta started to say, but Goddard interrupted him.

"Oh, come on, Alessandro, he's as ready as he'll ever be. He ought to learn how it happens in the real world sooner rather than later."

Rowan had known it would eventually come down to this, yet he hadn't imagined it would be so soon. He appreciated Volta's efforts to keep him away from the horror but he couldn't fight Goddard forever. 

"If you think so." Volta gave in, as Rowan expected him to.

"Well, then we shouldn't waste any time! We'll go tomorrow." Goddard said.

"We should choose somewhere smaller this time though," Scythe Chomsky said. "Those damn quotas."

Volta was quick to nod and Scythe Rand rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, when the hell are they gonna get rid of them?" She exclaimed. "They just get in the way. You should remove them, Robert, once you're High Blade."

"That's a future matter, Ayn." Goddard said, clearly pleased at the thought of his power growing. However, even imagining Goddard as High Blade made Rowan shudder on the inside. He hoped his influence would never expand that much.

Later, during his afternoon lesson with Volta, Rowan could tell the scythe was still in a sour mood. He was clearly distracted and the scowl on his face gave away most of his feelings. He wasn't nearly as expressive around the other scythes, but seemed to let his guard down a bit around Rowan. It was nice, he thought, to see some honest feelings in this superficial place.

"Thanks for looking out for me." Rowan said.

"I just don't think it's right for you to witness a mass gleaning yet." Volta leaned back in his chair across the table. "You'd be better off learning from individual gleanings."

Rowan looked up at him from his book and smirked.

"That's not very new order of you."

"Maybe not," Volta shot him a small grin. "But still, it's the current most popular approach to gleaning. It introduces you to all the nuances of the job."

"You sound like you've put some thought into it." 

"Well, I am supposed to be your teacher after all," Volta's eyes darted around the room before he lowered his tone. "Even if most people seem to think I'm just a placeholder for Scythe Goddard."

"I think you're doing pretty good." Rowan said, averting his gaze to the wall.

"Your results better show for it." Volta grinned, pushing Rowan's discarded book back towards him.

Rowan was glad his bad mood had faded a bit. Dinners were always awkward and having one of the scythes under the weather usually meant it would be even worse. He had, surprisingly, meant what he had said. Over the course of the last weeks, he'd found himself genuinely enjoying Volta's company. He made the whole experience of living at the estate a little bit more bearable.

Having spent the previous day trying to ignore the thought of the upcoming gleaning, Rowan found himself wildly unprepared for it. He didn't know what he had been expecting but a helicopter definitely hadn't been on the list. In hindsight, knowing Goddard's ostentatious nature and his affinity for the phrase 'angels of death', it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. When they landed and got off on the roof of the office building, a feeling settled in his gut that made him feel nauseous. He hated this, he hated being here. Rowan felt Volta's hand on his forearm as he passed him - the only comfort the scythe could offer him in that moment. He wished he could say it had helped, but his dread remained.

Volta didn't like these gleanings. He had tried very hard to convince himself that he did, but the truth was simple and clear. But he understood Scythe Goddard's message, the reasons behind his actions. He admired him. Or at least he pretended to. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything positive about him now, as the man gleaned without mercy or respect. And the talking, it was like he never stopped, constantly repeating his mantras of grandeur and righteousness. Usually, Volta would embrace those messages, but not now, not as the blood flew around them and the fire from Chomsky's horrible flamethrower encircled him. His old guard training, so recently completed, tended to shine through when he gleaned. He was silent, out of respect, not arrogance, like his old mentor had been in his gleanings. He didn't like to think about that. Volta wished he could lose himself in the gleanings like the others did. He wished Rowan would learn to, for his own sake.

* * *

It is a great honour for me to see Scythe Goddard develop his revolutionary ideas before my eyes. The gleanings we do are the way of the future, they are true progress for the Scythedom. He says we are redeemers and he is right. We bring gods down and turn them into mortals. We are the final word.

- _From the gleaning journal of H.S. Rand_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've returned in my full gay glory get ready yall

Being a part of Scythe Goddard's gleanings and learning from his experience is an amazing opportunity. I'm very glad I've ended up in the company of such a skilled scythe.

_-From the journal of Rowan Damisch, scythe apprentice_

* * *

Even a blind man would be able to tell tensions were high on the way back from the gleaning. Rand and Chomsky mostly looked exhausted but satisfied with their work. Goddard was, as always, unsettlingly cheerful following his atrocious deed. Volta, on the other hand, looked like he wished he was anywhere else. Rowan felt his pain; he himself felt absolutely miserable, despite not taking a single life. He was thankful for the helicopter as the loud noise prevented any awkward conversations from starting. Naturally, the peace did not last long. As soon as they entered the estate, Goddard was all over Rowan.

"Don't you feel powerful?!" He said gleefully, throwing a hand across the boy's shoulders. Rowan hummed noncommittally. Thankfully, Goddard didn't seem to be looking for a response, as he went on about power and duty. Rowan looked around and caught Volta's tired gaze.

 _'Help me out here.'_ He tried to signal by widening his eyes in frustration and glancing at the blabbering scythe who was still holding his shoulders. Volta simply raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. 

"Let the boy soak it in, Robert," Scythe Rand chimed in. "We can all talk about the joys of gleaning at dinner, but right now I just want a shower."

Goddard rolled his eyes at her, but let go of Rowan, who had to gather all of his composure not to run away from him immediately. Closing the door of his room felt like such a relief that he couldn't help sliding down and sitting on the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. He soaked in the silence, a sharp contrast to the cacophony of noise that encompassed his hellish experience like a bubble. Helicopter blades, crashes and screams echoed in his mind. Rowan buried his head in his hands and his body shook from his muffled sobs. It felt like the world was crushing him under its weight and he knew then that he would let Citra glean him without hesitation when the time came.

Rowan didn't remember when he'd gotten up or passed out face first on his bed, but he was woken up by Volta shaking him lightly. He knew his eyes would be bloodshot from crying so he just groaned into his pillow. Volta hesitated for a second before softly running a hand through Rowan's hair.

"Dinner's ready." He said in a low voice.

"Not hungry."

"Do you really want to bring the others' attention to yourself?"

Rowan rolled over, not bothering to hide his red eyes. "I think that's inevitable."

"Wash up. They'll be too excited to notice you much." Volta said, patting his shoulder and leaving the room. 

Dinner was, as expected, a horrible experience. Goddard had ordered an entire feast and was celebrating joyously. He was cracking jokes left and right, contributing to Rand and Chomsky's already high spirits. Rowan, however, couldn't bring himself to eat more than a few bites. It seemed that Volta was having the same problem. He kept getting up to wash his hands when he thought no one noticed. Rowan could tell his mood was getting worse by the minute as the other scythes started a discussion about the quotas.

"By the way," Goddard suddenly turned to Volta. "Have you reached out to the families yet?"

"Yeah, they'll be here tomorrow morning." He replied, a frown on his face.

"Ugh, I hate them too, what a bother." Rand said, having misunderstood Volta's expression.

"Right." He said and got up to leave almost immediately after. Rowan wanted to follow but Goddard chose that exact moment to start with his theatrics again.

After about 15 minutes of nodding along, he managed to excuse himself and headed to his bedroom. However, walking along the corridor, he noticed that Volta's door was slightly open. His curiosity got the best of him and he opened it. The scythe was sitting on his bed, head buried in his hands, his journal thrown aside. He looked up at Rowan, who saw tears were running down his face. Closing the door, he pulled a chair without hesitation and sat down. They were silent for a bit.

"Isn't it funny," Volta spoke through his teeth eventually. "I'm supposed to be teaching you to be just like them. Yet I can't even convince myself."

"I don't want to be like them," Rowan said. "And we don't have to be."

"Scythe Goddard is the future."

"For how long have you been trying to convince yourself of that? I know your mentor was old-school, so he chose you for your conscience. That doesn't just go away." Volta hid his face again. 

"I wish it did. This would be easier. It must be even harder for you." He said. "Did you ever think you'd end up here?"

"Here as in 'the scythedom', or as in 'the worst group of people you've ever met'?" Rowan quipped and Volta huffed in amusement. "But really, I could've never imagined something like this."

There was another stretch of silence, this time more contemplative.

"Do you remember when we first met? You asked me if I was Goddard's scapegoat in case things don't work out." 

"I remember." Rowan nodded. 

"You were right."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad I wound up here. It could've been worse."

"Why the fuck would you be glad?! Your life has been made a mess by Goddard's political games and now you're stuck here with the threat of death hanging over you!"

"I meant," Rowan's breath was shaky. "I'm glad I've got you on my side."

Volta seemed to be at a loss for words. Before he knew what he was doing, Rowan leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. His mother used to always do that when he was upset and he had learnt it helped. Volta looked at him with wide eyes and he realised that he had probably overstepped his boundaries.

"Um, sorry, I should probably head to bed now, um-" Rowan stuttered; he was sure he'd made a fool of himself. He hurried out before Volta could say anything, and left the scythe staring at the door closing behind him.

* * *

We gleaned an office building today. I'm sure we're ahead of out quota now, but that can be fixed. Scythe Goddard knows what he's doing and I trust-

_-From the gleaning journal of H. S. Volta_


End file.
